


Conduit

by MissJeeves



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissJeeves/pseuds/MissJeeves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel's always wanted Atlantis, and fucking John is the closest he can get to having her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conduit

“Hey, Teyla,” Sheppard said, dropping into the seat opposite hers at the team’s usual table in the cafeteria. Ronon and Rodney were already there, and each had gotten seconds by the look of the number of plates. “I have to cancel our sparring session.”

Teyla smiled at him. “Is your face still sore?” she asked. Her tone was kind, but the reminder that last time she’d broken his block and kicked him square in the nose was just mean.

“No,” he told her. “My face is fine. You don’t kick that hard.” It came out a little defensively. “I have an appointment with Dr. Jackson.”

“I thought you were hiding from him,” Ronon said, artfully tactless.

“I am not.” Sheppard scowled.

“Then why’d you say not to tell him if we saw you?” asked Rodney around a mouthful of pudding.

Sheppard glared. “So you did hear that part? I was wondering, ‘cause Jackson said you told him where to find me.”

McKay completely ignored the first part. “He was in my lab touching stuff,” he retorted. “I wanted him to go away!”

“Thanks, Rodney,” Sheppard said.

“So you are hiding from him,” Teyla said. “Why? I find him to be a kind and interesting person.”

“Who never shuts the hell up,” added Rodney. “Or keeps his hands to himself.” Teyla raised an eyebrow, while Ronon openly snickered. “What?”

“He keeps using me to turn on Ancient tech,” said Sheppard. “And asking me how it feels. For hours. I was bored and starving, and avoiding him – not hiding – so I didn’t accidentally-on-purpose shoot him. He has friends in high places.”

“General O’Neill would be mad,” Rodney agreed.

“What would Jack be mad about?” asked Jackson, having wandered up with surprising stealth.

“If you stayed here and didn’t go back to the SGC where you belong,” Rodney covered, which was both clever and subtly insulting.

Jackson took it in stride, smiling tolerantly.

“Colonel Sheppard, could I borrow you and your gene again? I’ve found a section of the city I believe to be –”

“Yeah,” Sheppard interrupted. “Sure.” He grimaced and glared at his teammates, none of whom made any move to rescue him. “Coming.”

“Later,” said Ronon, overtly smirking at him.

Teyla smiled and dipped her head. “Enjoy helping Dr. Jackson with his work,” she said, saccharinely.

“Bye,” Rodney told him.

In response, Sheppard just snatched the remaining pudding cup off of Rodney’s tray, stole Teyla’s spoon, and silently followed Jackson out of the cafeteria.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jackson had somehow gained access to one of the less-explored levels of the city. One of the areas that also might have taken some hits the last time Atlantis had been in combat, but wasn’t important enough to get repaired. They had to walk through corridors that were filled with debris and their actual destination was even worse. It was a tiny, dirty crevice with barely enough room for one person, let alone two.

Not for the first time, Sheppard wished Jackson didn’t have carte blanche from Colonel Carter to go everywhere and do anything.

There was architecture that resembled a table or a gurney of some kind, and Jackson wanted Sheppard to lie down on it and see what happened.

This was already a bad idea, especially with Jackson having to sit on the thing at the same time, since the collapsed walls gave him nowhere else to be.

Sheppard stalled for a bit and ate Rodney’s pudding while Jackson babbled on about this being another data depository of some kind, maybe, and he wanted Sheppard to turn it on so he could get at the records.

Deciding he wouldn’t be all that upset if the thing electrocuted them both, Sheppard lay down on it. He spread his legs a bit, trying to discourage Jackson from joining him on it. That didn’t work. Jackson just climbed between his calves and knelt there, awkwardly clutching a digital recorder and a notebook.

“Um, go for it?” Jackson told him.

Sheppard rolled his eyes, but Jackson didn’t catch it. “Power might be messed up down here,” he warned him.

“Try?”

The damn thing hummed to life the instant Sheppard thought about it. Circuitry crushed beneath the fallen walls lit up and power thrummed through the table.

“Look at that,” Sheppard drawled. He could feel the energy traveling through the surface. It carried the usual sensation that came from activating Ancient tech: vague euphoria and the strangely exhausting effort required to keep the connection and concentrate on making it do whatever it was supposed to do. “Only half busted all to hell.”

“Library?” Jackson asked Sheppard, scribbling in his notebook.

“There’s…glyphs,” Sheppard told him, casting thoughts out for the thing to tell him its function. “I think the display part might be gone.”

Jackson squinted at him. “But you can see them?”

Sheppard frowned. “No, but I know they’re there.”

More scribbling and muttered comments into the recorder. “How?”

“I just do.”

Jackson looked at him, unsatisfied. “Can you elaborate?”

“There’s supposed to be displays,” Sheppard told him. “And there’s data to go there. I can feel it.”

“Okay.” Jackson shoved the recorder at his face. “How does it feel?”

It felt irritating. Jackson was practically sitting on him and that was a little overwhelming while plugged into Atlantis. Sheppard had never had someone on his lap like this before.

“There’s energy,” Sheppard said. “It’s kind of warm and tingly and I think it’s coming from the table.” He shrugged. “You can’t feel it?”

“I feel heat from the power source,” Jackson agreed, “And I think I can feel something broadcasting out, but it doesn’t tell me anything.” He frowned. “I don’t have the gene, though. It can’t connect with me.”

“Too bad,” Sheppard said, and he probably sounded smug. “It’s a little hard to stay connected; I think the power might be fluctuating.”

“Can you stabilize it?”

Sheppard shut his eyes, trying to concentrate on his connection with the machine. He felt it get stronger, felt the warmth and energy increase. Doing so made him tense, the interaction with the tech harder and more complex.

“You look relaxed,” Jackson said, which made Sheppard open his eyes in surprise. “Does it feel good?”

“Complete opposite of that,” Sheppard told him. “This is intense.”

“But it feels good.”

“It feels like work,” Sheppard retorted. “I have to maintain.”

Abruptly, Jackson tossed aside his notebook and tucked his recorder away. Without asking, he was leaning down, his elbows on either side of Sheppard’s face and his chest almost pressed flat down against him.

“I wish I could feel it,” he said, mouth near Sheppard’s ear. “It’s so strange, you’re a power source – a conduit – for something I know is there but can’t feel.”

“I can feel it,” Sheppard said. It was only getting more intense. He felt hot, like the tech was powering even more. “Might be time for a break.”

“Okay,” Jackson said.

Then, his elbow slipped and he fell flat on Sheppard’s chest.

The effect was instantaneous. Energy surged through Sheppard’s body and the crevice absolutely lit up. The exertion of the connection vanished so only the thrill remained. It felt light and good, until Jackson pulled away in surprise. Immediately, it was back to being hard and intense, and also suddenly like a weight.

“Whoa,” Jackson said. “I kind of felt that.” Sheppard forced one eye open, to find Jackson peering down at him with huge eyes. “What happened?”

“I have no idea.” But it was over and now tiring, so Sheppard quietly let the connection fizzle until the power was lower and less overwhelming.

“Was that Atlantis?” Jackson stared at him, sounding like a kid who’d just met Santa Claus.

“Yep,” Sheppard said, lazily. “Low dose.”

“Can I?” Jackson asked. “Again?” He made a strange hand gesture and Sheppard eventually realized he was asking to lie down again, against Sheppard’s body.

“Um,” he said, which Jackson took as an assent.

It happened again. Lower, because Sheppard had decreased the connection. But the room lit up, dimmer than before, and energy surged through them again.

It felt really, really good.

Sheppard let it stay until it felt almost too good, then lowered the connection even more. When the sensation receded, he was left with Jackson pressed against him, fingernails digging into his shoulders and erection prodding Sheppard’s ribs.

And presumably, Jackson could feel Sheppard’s own hard-on against his thigh.

“That’s new,” Sheppard offered, waiting for Jackson to pry himself free.

Instead, Jackson leaned down. “Turn it up,” he ordered, and then his mouth closed on Sheppard’s lips.

Thought ended there.

The connection went through the roof. Sheppard could feel Atlantis and Jackson, and more importantly, feel the interaction between the two.

He was the conduit and it felt amazing.

It felt better when Jackson took their clothes off. Sheppard wasn’t sure how, though he knew he was participating and would later find that he ripped Jackson’s pants and boxers off with such force that they both shredded.

Bare skin was hotter and tingly, like he could feel particles of some kind skimming across the surface.

They didn’t have much space and Sheppard was having trouble differentiating between what he could feel outside and what he felt inside.

On the outside, Jackson was giving him an enthusiastic blowjob and on the inside was Atlantis.

Sheppard found Jackson’s ass, stretched the hole with fingers and saliva, using composure that felt borrowed.

Lube appeared in Jackson’s hand, retrieved from somewhere. Guy was prepared. There was a tangle of limbs as they both tried to apply it to themselves and each other.

And then Jackson managed to sit down on Sheppard’s dick and white hot pleasure washed everything else away. It wasn’t just an explosion beyond his eyelids – when he blinked, the machinery around them was sparking, too, the entire room glowing and pulsating to their rhythm.

Sheppard shot into Jackson and everything exploded.

It was dark and cool, after. The connection gone, the tech quiet and still. Jackson was warm, so Sheppard held on to him, mindful of the stickiness covering them both.

He thought the other man was asleep, but then Jackson’s lips moved against his ear.

“Thanks for sharing,” Jackson said, nuzzling Sheppard’s neck exhaustedly.

The contact made the city twitch back to life, a burst of potential energy slicing through them both and going straight to Sheppard’s dick.

With effort, Sheppard turned it off – turned it down in a whole new way – and let the connection dissipate as he passed right the hell out.


End file.
